I’m leavin’, LEAVIN’! On that midnight plane to Georgia! Will it be good or evil?

On that midnight plane to Geor-gia…leavin’ on the mid-night plaaaannne to Geor-gia…WOO WOO!

Well, actually, I landed, at midnight 08, to be exact, at Savannah Hilton Head. What is Savannah, Ga. famous for?

A book called “Midnight in the Garden and Good and Evil.”

Yes, I know. It’s spooky already, isn’t it.

The book, in the first chapter, is a journalist’s tale of the quintessential capitol of the South. Well, there is some argument about what the true capitol of the South is. But there is no argument that all the characters — and the best stories — are in Savannah.

The book, by John Berendt, begins with Chapter One (of course). It’s about his conversation with a man he meets who lives in an historic home who appears to be overly brimming with confidence. It’s a bit odd, yet a bit familiar, at least to me.

The man boasts to the journalist about how he became one of the most famous men in Savannah. Halfway through the chapter, a young man who turns out to be a hustler (and who ends up murdered by the end of the book) bursts into the scene as if he owns this fancy man’s house. He’s rough and tumble and has a foul mouth. The journalist finds it curious.

The chapter ends with Mr. Fancy Pants proclaiming, “I have two Christmas parties, not just one. Both are black-tie. The first party is the famous one. It’s the one that gets written up in the newspapers, the one the high and mighty of Savannah come to. The second party is the next night. It’s the one the papers never write about. It’s…for gentlemen only,” James Williams tells Berendt. “Which party would you like to be invited to?”

Berendt’s answer: “The one least likely to involve gunfire.”

Oh, but there’s so much more.

Already, a trip both enchanting and terrifying

I know. The chill went down my spine when I read it, too. And then I booked a trip to Savannah.

And here I am. The flight from the Quad-Cities to Atlanta was lovely. I never had flown Delta before. Very nice, comfortable aircraft, and extraordinarily friendly southern belle flight attendants. “In the event that our captain decides to turn our flight into a cruise, a flotation device is located underneath your seat.”

That made me chuckle. But when I got to TGI Fridays in the Atlanta airport, terminal E, things got a bit odd. A young man who did not look old enough to be drinking the beer in front of him, and who was, um, well, a little “turned up,” I guess you would call it (I know because I’ve been there, and would never want to go back there), struck up a conversation with me.

It didn’t take me long to understand his situation and very gently explain it to him, and get him to confirm it with me. I then offered him some advice that he seemed to appreciate.

Next, I asked him where he was from. I swear he said, “Davenport.” I said, “Davenport????” He said, “Um, no, Orlando. I’m going there for a family thing, I guess you could call it.”

Well, we had a heart to heart. I hope the kid is safe and gets out of the life he is in.

When I left, the waitress said, “See you again!” And a very scary looking man with greasy hair, probably 30 but looked to be pushing 50, said, “No, you won’t see him ever again.”

Yes. I know. That chill down the spine again.

Then I almost missed the midnight plane to Georgia

I then realized that I had not set the clock forward (an S7 Edge doesn’t do that by itself?) and was an hour late to board my flight.

I ran to the gate.

And I heard, “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the hour-long delay, but a member of our flight crew had a delay from another flight, and we cannot operate the aircraft without three flight attendants. We hope to board within 20 minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, we were in the air. That plane must have flown 1,000 mph because we were only two minutes late.

Now I’m here.

Um, well, honestly, the place feels a bit…odd. In many ways. I will get into all of that tomorrow. I’m tired and I need to say my prayers and go to bed.